


The Guitar Fic

by greasycarisi



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: (mostly crack), Fluff and Crack, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 04:16:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5033371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greasycarisi/pseuds/greasycarisi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sonny wants to fuck but is extremely awkward about it and he ends up playing the guitar instead. As it turns out, Rafael loves a musically inclined man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Guitar Fic

“Uhh, Counselor, would you uh… Can I take you home? To my apartment? It’s okay if you can’t…I mean…”

Sonny Carisi had finally worked up the gall to invite Rafael Barba to come home with him; and when he asked, he asked in a way that was too sheepish and too cute to ignore or reject by awkwardly replying with the hackneyed phrase, _“I think I’ll pass for tonight.”_ The shy invitation was also shockingly different from the persona Rafael usually associated with the young detective and law student. Any other time he spoke, it was a confident interjection to prove himself worthy of Rafael’s kind regard when it came to his applications of the law in numerous SVU cases. Rafael hummed to himself and tilted his head in utter disbelief before a good measure of silence between the two fell. They had been sitting side by side on bar stools, gazing at one another from behind their drinks ever since the rest of the squad left.

In hindsight, Sonny’s lingering glances and persistence for making a good impression on the ADA were something he had recognized early on. Rafael silently wished nothing more than for Sonny’s interest in him to be strictly professional admiration. But he could tell that the younger man had copped feelings for him that were more personal as time went on. He’d be lying if he said those feelings weren’t mutual. He’s not even sure how they came about. First the young man was this tacky, mustachioed cop from the homicide unit in Staten Island who was overly aggressive in trying to ingratiate himself with his cohorts of Manhattan SVU, but now… Now Sonny was really starting to grow on the man, and everyone else, from what Rafael could tell from the praise Liv gave him. His ability to see things from both the perspective of a cop and an attorney– albeit, a rookie attorney– really began to blow the ADA away. Although Rafael found himself annoyed with Sonny’s development of insight at first, his irritation was admittedly irrational and he instead opted for respecting it…Later than sooner. The feelings took a bit more time to grow for Barba, but there they were, nonetheless.

And now they found themselves here. Rafael stared down at his empty tumbler before looking up at Sonny. The older man’s lips subtly settled into a smirk. “If we’re going to get this personal, the _least_ you can do is call me by my name, Sonny.”

Sonny could have sworn his heart skipped a couple beats.

“Right… Rafael, you wanna come home with me?”

“Sure, _detective_.”

Sonny snickered at Rafael’s deliberate use of the term ‘detective’ and rose from his seat. It happened in such a swift motion that even Rafael’s head spun.

“Whoa!” The older man reached out, grasping either side of the other to help him steady, “You okay?”  Sonny smiled and nodded, raising his forearms to grab onto Rafael right above his elbows. Sonny wouldn’t express aloud how his excitement had gotten the better of him. It may have been a factor or gravity as well, but Sonny knew he was clumsy in extreme excitement or distress. Instead, he urged the older man up on his feet as he simultaneously attempted to conceal a goofy grin.

~~~

Barba silently took in every detail he could of Sonny’s tiny apartment. Despite its size, it very much fit Sonny’s personality. Rafael noted the city lights shining through the blinds in Sonny’s windows that happened to be wide open, his textbooks and books for personal reading were strewn across the dark wood floor or stacked one on top of the other on a used and beat up coffee table. On the cushions of a hand-me-down leather loveseat sat manilla folders and a couple notebooks with pens tucked in the spirals. Beyond the entertainment system and television (likely more hand-me-downs, probably from his family) was an archway that lead to the even smaller kitchen. From where he was standing, Rafael could only make out one of the cabinets and the sink. Everything in Sonny’s abode screamed “starter home” and “student” and it suddenly felt as if Rafael’s age was physically present, gigantic three-dimensional numbers looming over him. It had been years since he moved out of his own shoebox of a home. He chuckled to himself at this, making Sonny self-conscious.

“Yeah, I know, it’s a mess,” he scratches the back of his head, looking opposite of Barba, “Can we, umm… follow me, please.”

Sonny knew the original reason for inviting Barba to his home. He had craved the man’s touch ever since his eyes first caught sight of those long fingers wrapped around that goddamn glass. He also knew that a bar probably wasn’t the most appropriate place to initiate… whatever it was Sonny had been fantasizing about an hour ago. Maybe this would have been a lot less awkward in Barba’s home. Maybe Sonny should have initiated it in public, at least with a kiss. Maybe then he wouldn’t be leading the way to his bedroom with the man trailing behind by a few steps too many. This was by far the cleanest one-night-stand he has ever had. He wasn’t even semi-hard, for Christ’s sake. And what did Barba think this was anyway? Sonny is leading him to his bedroom, the least he could have been doing was grabbing Sonny’s ass, or taking off either of their clothes, or holding hands…? Instead, he was just following behind Sonny, like a lost puppy or a tourist. Sonny felt as if he should be pointing out everything surrounding them: _“And this, is the closet where I keep the towels and wash rags…”_

They finally made the excruciating walk to Sonny’s bedroom.

“Make yourself at home,” the younger man murmured in a way that was so incredibly uncouth, even Sonny wasn’t sure if it had come out of his mouth, “The remote’s on the nightstand, I need to piss.”

Rafael snorted, “Charming.”

Sonny grinned halfheartedly and made a beeline toward the bathroom.

If he was being honest, Rafael felt really confused. He knew exactly what Sonny had wanted and yet neither of them made an effort to do anything about it. Where was the assertive and ingratiating Detective Carisi? He seemed to have vanish into thin air. Rafael thought it endearing, the notion that the detective may be a little nervous about having sex with him. But that painfully fake smile said something else… Had it been Rafael himself who had done something wrong? Was Sonny having second thoughts, i.e., thinking rationally about this entire situation? It scared Rafael when he thought to himself: Don’t think rationally about this now. For the love of God, where had his own standards gone? Obviously they had flown out of the window along with Sonny’s confidence.

To save his own sanity, Rafael observed the room around him. He evaluated the bed, bouncing once. Squeaky. Pleasantly firm. No headboard. He grasped on to the duvet beneath him, noting how nice it felt, not as nice as his own, but still pretty comfortable. An abominable plaid design, however. He looked up from the bed. Plain white walls. Used oak dresser, underwear sticking out from the drawer. And wasn’t that adorable? One matching nightstand. He didn’t dare open the drawer, but he assumed there were condoms and lubricant inside. He looked up. Plain white ceiling fan. Small. A little dusty. To the third wall, a sliding mirror closet. Slightly ajar. Rafael smiled at the tiny glimpse of Sonny’s suits he had. His eyes trailed down, spotting a familiar shape. A guitar. His smile grew. He knew he was officially in trouble with this one. Rafael found that anyone with musical talent could instantly make themselves into a 10 from a 6. Did that group Rafael Barba, Assistant District Attorney of the state of New York, with the likes of teenage girls screaming their heads off for popular boy bands? Probably. But he figured there wasn’t anything he could do about it at this point in his life.

Sonny had finally walked back into the room  and Rafael could barely contain the question:

“You play?”

Carisi gave him a puzzled look.

“I saw the guitar in the closet… It’s not my fault you can’t keep anything shut properly. I mean, _seriously?_ ” He gestured toward the closet and the underwear brimming over his drawer.

Realization dawned on Sonny’s face and he finally smiled a little more genuinely.

“Yeah. I play. I haven’t in awhile though, I mean between Fordham and SVU, I barely have time to shit.”

Rafael rolled his eyes at Sonny’s second, delightful piss/shit joke of the night but a smirk played at his lips,

“Well, you have time now, don’t you?”

“I mean… I guess. I was under the impression that we were going to fuck, but I guess I can reset the mood.”

Ha! Rafael found the cocky little bastard.

“As if there was a ‘mood’ to begin with?” he retorted.

“Ooh, _touché_.”

“Play for me.”

Sonny said nothing in reply. Instead he gave Rafael a warm smile and walked back out of the room. He came back within 15 seconds. Rafael could demand the man to murder someone and he would comply.

“Sorry about that. This one is better. The one in there has old strings.” He slipped the strap over his shoulder and strummed once, checking the pitch.

When he began, Rafael had immediately recognized the flamenco rhythm as Andrés Segovia’s transcription of Isaac Albeniz’s “Asturias” but realized that it was more likely that Sonny was playing “Spanish Caravan” by The Doors. And yeah, he was. And was that really the first song to come to Sonny’s mind? What a show-off. All that Rafael knew is that Sonny’s slender figure seemed to belong behind that goddamn instrument. And then Sonny actually began to sing the song, and _fuck_. Rafael was fucked. His mouth went dry and he began blinking rapidly, simply because he could not believe what he was witnessing. This shouldn’t turn Rafael on, and yet…. God damn it. How long had Sonny been playing that he could play this well? It wasn’t fair. He was so multi-talented that it almost made Rafael sick. And his fingers. His thin, pale, godforsaken fingers, strumming along arduously. Jesus. Rafael wasn’t going to survive the night.

Sonny continued on singing. It was as if his accent melted away when he sang, a pleasant surprise. Rafael could see himself listening to Sonny sing for the rest of his life. It was a beautiful thing, really. And his lips. Dear God, his lips. Could they be an any brighter shade of pink? And so plump… Rafael’s breath nearly hitched at the thought of what those lips, what his _mouth_ , might be capable of.

When Sonny finally spared him anymore suffering, Rafael blinked once at him as if he was coming to after being temporarily unconscious.

“Where the hell did that come from? Don’t take this the wrong way. You were fantastic. But I thought you said you didn’t have time to play.” His obvious astonishment inflated Sonny’s ego to no end. Praise. From ADA Rafael Barba. Who would have thought? Rafael knew not to say anything about the singing directly. Not yet.

“I’ve been playing for eighteen years,”

Of course he has. How old was he, again? Rafael mentally guessed early thirties. That’s only about ten years… A little more. God, why were they still clothed?

“And I try to brush up at least once a month. Ma says it’s good to keep my hobbies outside of work.”

“That makes sense.”

“Want me to play another tune for ya, Counselor? Name a song, any song! I can play anything, really.”

“Maybe some other time, Lizard King… I had something else in mind for right now.”

“Oh… _Oh._ ” Sonny grinned, freed himself from his guitar, and climbed onto the bed over Rafael, happy to oblige. He leaned in, finally initiating the first kiss. An afterthought had forced him to pull back with a smack, “By the way,” Sonny quipped, “‘The Lizard King,’ Jim Morrison, was not the guitarist in the band. I take it you liked my singing, too, then. Huh.”

Rafael leered at Sonny before pulling him back into the kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on my Tumblr account greasy-sonny-carisi. Thank you for reading! Your comments are welcome and greatly appreciated.


End file.
